Tag Archives: Compulsive behaviour

Not One More

10 Oct

Not One More

I promised you I wouldn’t: not one more shoe; not one more drink. The shoes should have been easy, once the diabetes had taken my legs, but the beauty of them persisted, especially without the attendant blisters and wobble.

I didn’t care that staff laughed behind my back, or in front of my face, when I wheeled myself into their shop. Didn’t respond to their wisecracks of whether I thought they would be comfortable. What size? they would ask like it didn’t matter, but it did: there had to be consistency. A six is always easy to get and has the added benefit of looking in proportion, not shrunken or supersized, and I would always consider it my size.

I had low-level shelves erected all around the apartment and furnished them with my collection. I could touch the soft leather, smell the unboxed fragrance; pierce my fingertips with stiletto heels. Nubuck, patent, distressed or polished; red, pink, electric blue, anything but black. I don’t do laces either, or pumps, they must have a heel. Boots would be problematic for the height of my shelves, and they would flop unless I reinforced them, and no one would want to see that.

The drink, at least, was more understandable: I’d drink too, in her situation. The fact that it had contributed to my situation was neither here nor there.

I imagine that most drunks crave the alcohol, but for me, it is all about the aesthetics. My cupboards contained an array of glass sizes and shapes, for whisky, brandy, red or white wine. They didn’t have to be crystal, although a good malt deserved nothing less, but they do have to be beautiful. I love sitting (which is just as well) with a glass in my hand; warming the liquid to the optimal temperature or downing it before it loses its chill.

Breathing in the scent of a full-bodied Bordeaux warms my spirit for hours. The consumption, such as it was, was a by-product of the pleasure.

Not one more shoe; not one more drink. I would have kept my promise too, if you had kept yours: not one more fling; not one more affair.

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This piece was inspired by a prompt at Creative Writing Ink (2nd Oct 2019)